Page 71 of Plentywood
“Well, sheriff,” he began, grinning like he held a gigantic secret behind his lips. “Turns out I own over ten-thousand acres of land around these parts. Apparently, it has one of those ranch things on it, too.And,as it turns out, I also own a theater, a clinic, a childcare center, and a few other things that haven’t been entirely explained to me. Oh, and a buttload of money.”
“Is that so?”
“Apparently, it’s a fact. All legal like and everything,” he joked. “I’m thinking I need some time to get to know what my place in this little jewel of a town is exactly.”
“We’re a jewel now, huh?” I quipped. That was a far cry from his description the other night. This Ben was downright fun. Why ruin a good thing? “But weren’t you already rich, Master?” I joked. “Leaning on us poor townsfolk with the strong arm of a slumlord?”
“Who knows?” he quipped. “I’m having my lawyer check to see if I own a tiny sliver of land south of town. Comes with a cute little house on it too. You know the one, right? That white house out on the highway. Maybe you’ve seen it? The one with the dead flowers all around the yard.”
“You wouldn’t,” I huffed, listening to those tiny clicks from locks unlocking in my heart.
“I will if you don’t show me those ducks, officer.”
I fake sneered across at the man I really hadn’t figured had a sense of humor. “I’m the Sheriff,” I corrected. “The big guy. The main man.”
“I have a thing for big guys,” he admitted. “Especially a man in a uniform.” He stuck his hand out toward me. “I’m the new doctor in town,” he introduced. “Can we start again, Hunt?”
“I’ve got baggage, Ben,” I shared, hoping not to ruin our playful dialogue. “Some shit I still need to unpack.”
“I’ll help you if you help me.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, doing my best to be thebig guyI’d just professed to being. We sat and stared at one another. I’d been so incredibly hopeful at Jay and Jennie’s the other night. And then so rejected afterward. But I felt an optimism about Ben Hawthorne after his sweet gesture with the rose and the prescription note.
“I get attached pretty easy,” I admitted.
“That’s okay. I’ve been known to be clingy,” he said. “And usually that can be a problem when I fall for the wrong guy.”
“Have you fallen for the wrong guy before?” I asked. “Asking for a friend,” I added.
“That is a story for another day, fine sir. But Iamsingle.” Ben held his hand up like he was swearing an oath. “I swear, sheriff. Clingy but single. What do you think?”
I stood and turned in time to see Jill grinning through the window where food was passed when prepared. Our to-go bags were waiting. She was tearing up, which made my chest hurt. Could I do this? Could he?
“Why don’t you tell me all about this clingy guy on the way to the lake?”
“It’s a date,” he agreed, motioning toward the exit.
The drive to the lake was fraught with nerves. From both of us. What had been a terrific rapport at the diner had becomean SUV full of unspoken words. I didn’t want to lose that connection but wasn’t a master at the casual aspects of chatting. Especially since the questions I needed answered were the same ones I couldn’t ask.
Finally. “How long have you been coming to this lake?” Ben asked, turning in the passenger seat to face me, stretching the seatbelt across his chest for comfort. “This will probably sound strange, but I don’t think I’ve ever been to a lake. Well, there might be a lake in Central Park. I’m not sure.”
I took a right off the highway and onto a bumpy gravel road. Half a mile later, we crossed a cattle guard on the road where a gate would normally be. “Those metal bars on the road are to keep cattle inside the fences,” I offered, immediately regretting my choice of small talk. “Ranchers still need access to their land while keeping the cattle in, and the cows are too dumb to step over them.”
He looked at me like I was speaking to an infant about hydropower. “Okay,” he said.
“I thought you might like to know since it turns out you own a shitload of cattle and this actual land,” I blathered on. “Good to know what you have, don’t you think?”
“And you think I’ll be working with these cattle things?” he asked. “I’m afraid that I don’t even know what a cattle is.”
I laughed out loud and slapped my thigh as I damn near ran off the road from his purely innocent response. “Cattle is plural for cows. A bunch of steers or cows. Even bulls are considered cattle.”
“Okay,” he repeated, tilting his head in fascination. “Just so we’re clear, Hunt. I don’t see myself working on this ranch.”
I looked away. “I just thought you should know,” I mumbled.
I sucked at these types of conversations. Mark always carried me at the beginning of our dating. He knew I was a simple man.In fact, he claimed it to be one of my best traits. I doubted Ben would see things that way. He was New York. I was Montana.
Ben slid his hand across the bench seat and against my thigh. I looked down at his hand and then at him. “I’m nervous too, Hunt,” he whispered, his eyelashes covering his stunning green eyes as he looked down at our quasi-connection.
